Tuesday, May 6, 2008

The Wondrous Benefits Of The Doubt

Okay:

As a kid, I hated reading. I had an aversion to it. In fact, I was a senior in high school before I read a novel from cover to cover. Black Boy by Richard Wright.

Then I went to college and majored in English.

And it was another three years before I read anything else.

My senior year I went to my adviser's office to make sure everything was all lined up for May. He pulled up my file on the computer and started making faces at the screen.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You're not going to want to hear this. You're three credits short."

Panic rushed over me. "Three credits short! How's that possible?"

"You're missing American Literature II."

It couldn't have been a bigger disaster if I had planned it so. The only guy who taught American Lit was the most notorious stickler in the entire department. Dr. Floyd "Flunk 'Em" Farabee. I was in a world of shit.

"The only thing you can do," said my advisor, "is go to Farabee and ask to test out."

"Test out of American Lit II?"

"Unless you want to walk next year, it's your only chance."

I could've killed him. Some of this was his fault. He was my advisor. We spoke often. How could he let me get a month away from graduation and tell me this? The flip side is I should have had a better grip on my own affairs, but still. I could have killed him.

Luckily, Farabee took mercy on me. I had passed him twice. And I think he liked me. He gave me a condensed version of the syllabus, two books to buy, and a week to prepare.

And, of course, even with the stakes being so incredibly high, I still waited until the weekend before the test to start reading. To be fair, there were other finals to study for. But I wasn't worried about those. It was the Saturday morning before the test when I looked at the sheet he had given me. I had truly fucked myself. Not only were there two dozen short stories and poems to read, but a novel. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

I did the math. I'd have to read that fucking thing in one day's time.

And I did. And I passed the test. And I walked with my class.

I visited Farabee the day after graduation to give my sincere thanks. "By the way, Doc," I said, "how'd I do on that test?"

"Claude," he said smiling, "Isn't it enough to know you graduated?"

Then he left the room and I haven't seen him since.

I say all to say this. I have a student of mine who's going to be graduating in a month but reads on a second grade level. He has smiled and charmed his way through high school. Everyone loves this kid but is secretly appalled that he managed to meet the credit requirement.

The other day I asked him, as part of his reading assignment, to find the definitions of unfamiliar words from his assigned novel. One of the words was "karat".

He sat down with his dictionary and began thumbing through the pages. After five minutes or so, he looked up and exclaimed, "Mr. Nadir, someone stole the "k" section."

I looked at his dictionary to make sure it wasn't a half volume. "There's definitely a "k" section in there, son. Recite the alphabet to yourself to help find your way. Sometimes I have to do that."

He looked over at the young lady sitting next to him. She had found the "k" section in her own dictionary. "Look, Mr. Nadir! She the one who stole the "k" section!"

My point is this. If someone hadn't decided to take a leap of faith, in the hope that I would eventually earn the break(s) I was given, I'd have been in some pretty deep shit. People had bought plane tickets. And Dr. Farabee allowing me to test out of American Lit II was certainly not the first or last instance.

This kid is functionally illiterate. But he's going to graduate anyway. Hopefully, one day, the lights will turn on.


Thanks for reading.



GOBAMA!

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Factoid: Inspired by this near tragedy, I began reading incessantly after I graduated. I read a new book almost every week. That has slowed significantly as I've aged and taken on more responsibilities. But I've always found it ironic that I didn't enjoy reading until I had completed my formal education. See? College is dumb.

5 comments:

Unknown said...

Claude I had the same delimma right before graudation. I was 3 credits short. I told my advisor I was short and he said no Crystal you are on track. So I had to test out of a class about a week before graduation. I was stressed out. My mother sent out about 100 invitations to my graduation. She made some up on the computer. But my professor only made me write a 3 page paper on something I cant even remember what now and I graduated with my class. I dont even think my professor read my paper.

Cool Cee Brown said...

That's crazy. We're like cosmic twins or something.

Now that I'm a teacher myself, I can assure you that your professor never read that paper.

Sometimes "the motions" are all we have.

Anonymous said...

I'm gonna make a confession. I'm a pre - eco grad student (which is my counterpart to the retards who say they're in a non-existent so called pre med program) in canada and I compulsively read your blog. I'm south asian, wear a muslim headscarf and am probably the sweetest, most politically correct, sexually repressed, semi inauthentic, starved for affection and philosophically miserable chick you will ever meet. Something in this blog appeals to me. maybe it's a vision of an inaccessible world, I dunno. you're a good writer. there's an honesty and a loneliness to your insights which strikes me as being terribly authentic, very humanizing; very human.

Cool Cee Brown said...

Anonymous:

Well, first of all, I'm flattered.

Second of all, I'm delighted to hear that people are reading my blog in Canada. That's like a whole 'nother country.

Thirdly, I'm curious. Where's the picture?

ZACK said...

You are SO RIGHT. College IS Dumb. Thanks for telling me some shit I already know.

As for the charming, yet intellectually disabled young man- stay in touch with him. He can still make it (even if he never finds the "K" section). Unfortunately, there's a triple K section of the Real World that's going to give him a hard time.

Try to tap into his passion. For the hell of it, let's stereotype him as a rap lover. C'mon already- he's black. "Don't you people like that kind of music?"

If his passion happens to be girls instead, offer him a basketball scholarship. You don't need to be smart to get those. ZING!!!!

(And I think Crystal made up her story to impress you. I'm just saying)